


Bard's Farewell, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-15
Updated: 2004-01-15
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: When the music and spinning take control.





	Bard's Farewell, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**The Bard's Farewell**

**by:**

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the brilliant Sorkin and WB. Not mine, never will be. I have no money, therefore am not worth suing. Borrowed for my own amusement. Shakespeare owns a few pieces in here too. 

**Written:** August 5, 2002 

**Category:** Sam's departure/Angst/minor J  & D. 

**Spoilers:** Season 1 - season 3 finale 

**Rating:** ADULT 

**Summary:** When the music and spinning take control. 

**Author's Note:** I don't know where this came from, but I put my fingers to the keyboard and it just happened. My friends had asked how I thought the Master would write Sam out. I gave my opinion and each time I was asked, the more I thought about it. Last night instead of just saying, 'I should write this' I actually did. Sincere thanks to Bridget for being the first to ask, and beta reading, Evelyn for her continual questioning, Nancy for her 'just write it!' and Aim for her enthusiastic encouragement when the endeavor was only half way there and I wondered what the hell I was doing writing this! 

Thump... drag... tear... thump.

Label.

Thump... drag... tear... thump.

Label.

Packing tape dispensers. One of the great innovations of the past century.

Boxes, tape, marker pens. This goes to charity, this goes in the box, this is charity again, ohhh nope, hole in the sleeve. This goes in the rubbish. Keep, throw... keep... no, throw...no... charity. Ahh... perhaps Josh would like this because... no... charity.

Arms ache, head aches... need Advil... no, can't... packed.

Good one Seaborn.

Live with it. This is your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself this time.

You finally stepped off the edge, and although it scares the fuck out of you, it's the right thing.

It's the right time.

~*~

"Sam?"

He looked up from the amber liquid, now barely covering the bottom of his glass to find Josh's girlfriend standing next to him. Was Amy still Josh's girlfriend, he wondered? Well Josh hadn't been happy with the way things had been before and after Amy resigned from the WLC. But as far as he knew, they were still an item.

"Amy, what brings you out here?" he questioned waving his hand around in the air. "Josh isn't back until Friday, and the last time I looked at my desk calendar it was only Tuesday. It is Tuesday still?"

"Yes," she replied with a chuckle, catching the barman's attention as she lowered herself onto the stool beside him. "I do get out even when 'J' isn't around you know. It's not like I need his permission to go out and have a drink."

"No, of course not," Sam replied, trying to cover up the fact he'd obviously said the wrong thing. "I certainly didn't mean to imply anything."

"Beer," she stated to the barman, before looking at Sam as he swirled the contents of the glass without drinking it. "Sam, are you gonna drink it or just play with it?"

She drank beer? She didn't seem like the kind of woman who'd drink beer.

"Oh... ah..." he started before swilling the last of the scotch in one mouthful. He smiled, "See gone."

"'Nother?" she asked, nodding towards the barman.

"Yes, why not," he replied cheerfully, because if nothing else, Sam was a cheerful kind of guy. Well that's what he told himself, and if he said it enough, perhaps he'd believe his own words.

Others believe his words.

Only they were coming out of the President's mouth when they did.

"So..."

"So..."

"How's the job hunt going?" Sam asked, trying to sound interested. He didn't really know Amy, and the snippets Josh had told him were not things he could talk to her about. Yes, the fact that she liked shower sex, yes got horny as hell after watching blue movies. No, she refused to swallow.

Appropriate conversation topics?

Not likely.

"Not very positive at the moment," she replied as she nodded as the opened bottle of Adam's was placed on the sticky bar runner in front of her. She peeled at the label until it tore when stuck on the glue before taking a swig.

"I'm sure something will come along," Sam replied as he stared at his own glass of scotch, wondering why he ordered it. He wasn't drunk; he'd only had two or three. He was barely relaxed.

Relaxed.

Now there was a concept he hardly remembered.

He took a mouthful, and followed it with another. "There are plenty of opportunities out there for someone with your skills I'm sure."

"That's what 'J' keeps telling me," she replied, following it with another mouthful of her drink. "But I'm not sure."

"Not sure?" he questions, wondering what could possibly be the stumbling block for this woman who took on the Bartlet administration and nearly saw them undone.

"Some days," she began, as she pelted away more of the label, "I feel like I've jumped on a merry-go-round... you know one of those carousel rides... but the guy with the lever has wandered off and the thing won't stop. I want to get off but..." she tilts her head to one side as she speaks, "... it keeps going round and round and I stand on the edge too afraid to jump in case I hurt myself. Because you see it's going around so fast and I can't quite see if there's anything in the way for me to collide with if I jump off."

Sam stared at her.

His eyes focused on the mouth that uttered the words. Had she really said the words or had she read his mind? He was almost certain the words came out of her mouth and not his.

He needed clarification.

"Merry-go-round?" he questioned.

"Yeah..." she replied as her mouth hovered over the top of the bottle. She pulled it away a fraction and smirked, "or you know, it could be the beer talkin'."

She took two more mouthfuls and the contents of her bottle had disappeared.

Sam sat mesmerized. She *had* spoken. The thoughts jumbled in his over-tired brain put into a neat little package of sentences.

He was captured.

Within that moment, he knew what was about to happen.

Josh?

Josh who?

~*~

The sex was hot, urgent, consuming... and began in the cab ride to his apartment.

He wasn't drunk he told himself. Four glasses of scotch tallied to nothing really. He could walk and talk and was more than capable of running his fingers under her panties and finding her folds wet and wanting. With his jacket draped across his lap his throbbing erection was hidden, as was her hand groping through his open zip, pumping him, squeezing him...

He hadn't felt this alive in a long time. The past few weeks... no scrub that... the past months... maybe a year faded into the back of his mind.

The President?

The President of what?

They stumbled into his apartment. Ignoring the darkness, giggling like teenagers into each other's mouths as their tongues dueled. He tasted the bitterness of the hops on her tongue and he wondered if the bitterness of his life was seeping out of him too. Tripping over their own feet in the rush to dislodge shoes and clothes, he pulled her towards his bed.

Pushing her backwards onto the bed, he stood silently over her.

For a second was there a doubt? A realization?

She reached up and grabbed his loosened tie, dragging him hard down on top of her.

Doubt about what?

Her blouse went sailing across the room, his shirt and tie following it soon after. He knew he wasn't drunk when he successfully removed her bra with one hand. That required dexterity didn't it? God she was hot. He ran his hand under her skirt and dragged her pantyhose and panties down her legs in one long gliding motion. Remove the skirt or leave the skirt. That was the question?

~To be, or not to be: that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles.~

Hamlet? He was reciting Hamlet in his head?

Was he Hamlet?

His consternation on the question of her remaining attire was solved when the fair Ophelia tugged at the zipper and shimmied her way out of the skirt. He toed off his socks, a skill learnt back in college days when the most uncool thing to do was still have your socks on after having sex.

Amy's hands made swift work of his trousers and boxers and they were soon bunched around his ankles before he kicked them away. Her mouth hot on his chest. Her tongue dancing precariously around one nipple before moving to the other. Her hand caressing his balls as he preened and pinched her nipples between a thumb and forefinger with a force equal to the one she was inflicting on him, circling her clit with his other hand.

Bruises were a certainty.

Enough foreplay he decided and he began to roll back to reach for the condoms in his bedside table when she took the opportunity to launch herself onto him, impaling her slick heated need down on him with a pace that made him cry out in both pleasure and pain.

Yes, definitely bruises.

She rode him hard, arching her body, head thrown back with her eyes closed in focused concentration. He watched beads of sweat drizzle down her firm breasts as she bounced on top of him. When the shock of their joining had left him, he became an active participant again. Rising up to meet her downward thrusts, pinching her nipples until she cried out in sharp pain as she slammed herself down harder, faster. He held onto her hips, steadying them, as he drove himself into her, lowly growling crude words of encouragement as she began to moan and reach between them. Fingering her clit before chanting words that should never touch a woman’s ear let alone pass her lips, she began to cry out...

He could feel her pulse around him. It was all it took for him to blow it all deep inside her, convulsing, pounding, thrusting, deep... deep... more and more... blackness... light - mixed, sweat, heat, incoherent.

The heady, musky, scent of sex.

Carnival music from long forgotten summer fairs swirling in his head.

The merry-go-round sliding to a stop.

~*~*~

~ And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine: and of the truth herein This present object made probation. ~

He wasn't Hamlet - he was Horatio,

He was Hamlet's friend.

He could see this in the cold light of day.

Josh was Hamlet, and in Sam's rewritten nightmare version of the play, Horatio had betrayed his friend with the fair Ophelia.

Sam wondered when his life had gotten so screwed.

Then he heard the carnival music again, and the merry-go-round was spinning out of control.

~*~

Thankfully words were few.

Amy turned out to be the kind of woman who didn't expect breakfast and a replay of the proceedings from the night before. She dressed quickly while he wandered out to his kitchen, and before he could offer her a coffee she was running her fingers down his cheek and offering a 'See you around Sam, it was nice' with a gently slap, before disappearing out his door.

When did he become the guy that screwed his best friend's girl?

He wandered into the bathroom and looked at the face staring back at him in the mirror.

This couldn't be a mirror. A mirror was supposed to reflect the viewer, and Sam didn't recognize the face staring back at him.

Who was this fucking bastard who just screwed his best friend's girlfriend? God, when was the last time he had totally unprotected sex? What the hell had that been about? He had good intentions... but he did nothing to stop her. What happened to Sam Seaborn? Where did he go? The guy with the ideals and the morals? The one who knew right from wrong? When had he left and who was this imposter masquerading in his place?

He showered, shaved, brushed and flossed his pearly teeth. Dressing in a clean suit that still had the dry-cleaning solution permeated in the fabric, he glanced in the mirror again. The guy staring back was pristine in appearance, but he knew the truth beneath it.

Grabbing his keys from the side table he looked down at the photograph that sat there.

It was a photo of Josh Lyman and his friend Sam Seaborn. Someone, probably Donna, snapped it the day they moved into the White House. Surrounded by a sea of moving boxes, the two men were batting rolled up paper balls down the hallway with rulers. They were joking and clowning around... the next day the real work started.

The next day the real Sam Seaborn left.

~*~

It was an easy decision - leaving.

If he is really truthful to himself, he left a long time ago.

He'd never really been there.

Toby tried to talk him out of it when Sam handed him his resignation. He'd written it by hand in a precise flourishing script that he missed because the keyboard became the ink when the real Sam Seaborn left.

Leo had phoned, as had the President. They all tried to talk him out of it while Toby blustered that the middle of a re-election campaign was no time to abandon the ship.

But you had to be on the ship to abandon it he reasoned internally and none of their words reached his soul.

He packed his things into boxes because it would be easier than waiting. He wanted this to be immediate and he didn't want to be swayed when emotions bubbled to the surface. He was glad his walls were bare and bookcase cleared by the time Donna had tearfully wandered into his office, or he might have almost reconsidered.

But then he thought of Josh, and he knew he couldn't stay.

With his resignation came the isolation as he was shut out of the loop completely. Not that it felt any different from the weeks and months that had preceded his decision. At least this way when his office phone rang and he chose to ignore it, he knew it wasn't anything important.

By the Thursday morning, the phone stopped ringing and the messages from Josh started piling up on his desk. By lunchtime he wandered into Toby's office and stated there was nothing he was doing except count down the clock and it would be better for all if he went now instead of prolonging the inevitable.

Toby questioned his decision one last time before nodding his head. He rounded his desk and wrapped his now ex-deputy in a Toby-esque bear hug. It was a rare show of affection from the man he came to look on as a big brother, a mentor. Sam ached to think he'd let him down, but he had to get out.

He had to breathe again.

With a watery hug from Donna and an equally emotional embrace from CJ, he headed out.

Somewhere out there was Sam Seaborn, and he was determined to find him again.

~*~

Thump... drag... tear... thump.

Label.

Thump... drag... tear... thump.

Label.

He was surprisingly swift at rearranging his life when he made the decision.

After handing his resignation to Toby on Wednesday morning, he'd phoned his Mom to say he was going to pay her a visit. Soon after, his air ticket was booked and storage space organized until he knew where he'd be living next. All Thursday afternoon and most of Thursday night was spent sorting and packing. By the time dawn broke on Friday morning he woke to his apartment dismantled and three quarters packed. He'd spent the night on the sofa. His bed the first thing to be dismantled after the sex stained sheets were tossed in the dumpster down the street from his building.

By mid afternoon there was a pounding at his door, and he tried to ignore it. Thankfully his phone had been disconnected that morning and the insistent ringing had stopped. He closed his eyes tightly as Josh's shouts to let him in thundered. It was only the fear that Josh would actually break the door down, thus reduce his bond to be returned, that he slipped the lock across and opened the door.

The face that met him was confused and pained.

Josh marched in and looked around at the boxes. He ran his hands through his hair wildly and Sam could see his friend was having difficulty finding the words.

Friend?

Did he still have the right to think of Josh as his friend?

"Why Sam? For Christ sake why!" Josh blustered. "You couldn't have waited until I got back? What ever the problem is we could have fixed it. We're supposed to be a team - you and me. I knew... I had a feeling that something was up with you, but you didn't say anything. You should have told me Sam! You should have told me before it got to this!"

"You can't fix everything, Josh. This wasn't fixable."

"Says you!"

"Yeah... says me. That's if I remembered who I was. Josh... it's time. It's time for me to jump off the merry-go-round and hope the hell there's nothing in my way when I land. I've got to take that risk because it's all too much for me to stay on the ride."

"What? What are you... Sam?"

"I need to get off the ride Josh. I'm sorry... I'm... I'm so damn sorry for everything," he added, wishing he had the guts to look his friend in the eye, but he didn't.

"I just don't... I don't know anymore Sam. We were a team."

"I know. I let the side down."

"No you..."

"Yes I did Josh... yes I did."

"Look, Sam..."

"I really have to get this finished Josh. I've got some guys coming to pick my stuff up and put it in storage. They'll be here soon and I have to get this finished," he added, grabbing the tape gun again.

"Do you... do you want any help?" Josh offered, defeated.

"No, I've got it, thanks anyway," Sam replied.

"I'm going to Amy's for a little while, but then I'm going to my place. Come around okay? We'll sink a few beers and talk about... something," Josh shrugged as he headed for the door.

"Great. Sounds great. I'll see you there," he replied with a cheery tone.

Because Sam Seaborn was a cheery sort of guy.

And lying was second nature.

~*~

Josh let himself into Amy's apartment as he'd done countless times before. He had phoned to let her know he was on his way, and she was sitting on the kitchen bench waiting for him as he wandered in.

Silence prevailed until after he had opened the fridge and surveyed the contents, taking out a bottle of Adam's and opening it, swallowing almost half the contents in one action.

"Hey."

"Hello 'J'."

"Something wrong?" he quizzed, leaning against a bench and bracing himself for whatever argument was about to ensue.

"Are you happy?" she asked him pointedly. He could tell she expected an honest answer, but he wasn't sure he was ready for this.

Not today, wasn't one loss enough for the day?

"Happy in what sense?" he questioned, hoping to deflect the subject. Hoping that like Donna when she got too close, he could say something vague to which she would sigh and mumble that it didn't matter.

"It's not working 'J' and we both know it. Why do we keep pretending it is?"

And there it was. Another wall came crashing down, although this one didn't create anywhere near the rubble as the first. This was expected.

Overdue even.

"It's time to get off the merry-go-round 'J'. It's time to take the risk and jump."

Her words held a familiarity that was lost on him for a few moments. Then he remembered.

"Have you seen Sam lately?" he questioned, looking into her eyes.

She tried to hold his gaze, but found she couldn't. She might not love him. Lying wasn't even that hard if she really wanted to. "Why do you ask?"

"Amy, look at me. Have you spoken to Sam this week?" he demanded.

"Yes." she replied sharply turning back to him.

"What did you say to him?" Josh continued to question, think perhaps she'd said something to upset him and trigger whatever was happening. He didn't read her expression until she turned to him again.

"Not much."

"Not much? What do you mean..." then Josh saw the look. The guilty one, and he tried to remember if Sam had looked him in the eye the whole time he had been at his apartment.

He didn't think so.

"You and Sam... you... you fucked him didn't you!" Josh accused, sharply. "Jesus fucking Christ Amy... you fucked my best friend and now he's leaving?"

"Hey! Don't come all high and fucking mighty with me! He was there too you know," she yelled, and then realized what Josh had said. "He's leaving?"

Josh closed his eyes and tried to control his temper. It wouldn't do any good to lose his temper. Breathe deeply he told himself, breathe deeply.

"Yes. Do you... you don't love him do you?"

She let out a laugh and snorted. "Since when did love have anything to do with sex?"

"It's supposed to," he offered, and then realized the absurdity of his statement when he thought about what he and Amy had been doing all these months. It obviously showed on his face.

"Yeah, exactly," she added. "'J', I don't think he's leaving because he and I... He's been lost for a while 'J'. You've just been too busy to notice."

"Yeah," Josh replied and he realized it was true, and he headed for the door. "I've gotta go."

"It wouldn't have worked out you know. You and me," she called. He stopped and turned to her.

"Yeah I know," he nodded and he headed out the door.

~*~

He drove around for a while, gathering his thoughts before heading to Sam's apartment.

He was pissed about Amy and Sam, but not as pissed as he figured he should be. It wasn't like Sam was stepping in on him. Josh knew before Amy left the WLC they were doomed.

But it still stung.

He pounded on Sam's door, demanding that he let him in again. He threatened and cajoled and yelled that he knew about Amy and it was okay, before one of Sam's neighbors appeared from down the hall and informed him that Sam had already moved out.

Josh rested his fist against the door, looking blankly at the old woman, before she repeated her words.

Sam was gone.

~*~

Josh went to the only place he knew that offered escape.

That's where Donna found him sitting in the dark hours later, feet up on the sill of his office window, shoes kicked carelessly on the floor.

"Josh?"

"Hmm...?"

"You know, just because he's not here anymore, it doesn't stop... it doesn't stop the fact that we're his friends," she offered.

"I know."

"He hasn't been the same for a long time Josh. It's like a shell of someone we once knew has been in his office," she continued as she leant in the darkened doorway.

"Yeah... he needed to jump off the merry-go-round," Josh offered, staring into the night through the window.

And somewhere the carnival music stopped.

*

The end. 


End file.
